Almost Me
by WerewolvesAreReal
Summary: After speaking to Lucifer in the warehouse, Castiel stops to consider his own motivations, and finds them wanting. 'So close to becoming human himself, Castiel realizes that he hates them...'


**So, this started out with the intent of being a character study piece, with the Winchesters not fully realizing what Castiel was giving up to help them. It was supposed to be sad, but eventually touching, and culminating in understanding on all sides. Somehow it morphed into bitter!Castiel... who ended up defecting to Lucifer's side. Um.**

**Why can't I ever write anything moderately happy?**

**I totally blame the music I was listening to - that being Voltaire's 'Almost Human'. Way too reminiscent of Supernatural. I've been listening it on loop for about five hours, sooo...**

**Disclaimer; I do not own Supernatural, nor any of the characters, ideas, concepts, or other materials within.**

**Warnings for blasphemy, but that's pretty much the entire show.**

* * *

**Almost Me**

_I'm just like you_

_Made by He_

_Despised by They_

_I'm almost Me_

_I'm nearly human - _

_Pity me, I'm almost a human being._

_I still remember your light_

_And it was streaming down _

_And burning out my eyes..._

_-Voltaire, "Almost Human"_

* * *

The word, said aloud, is nothing. Meaningless - worse than meaningless, even, for its sheer mundane nature. _Falling._

Falling. He tells it to the Winchesters, gravely, somberly. They - the two humans who have prompted this fall, who have sworn him to be family - look concerned. Briefly. And a moment later, when he assures them that he will not fall totally for a time yet - will still have his powers, however waning, and be of use to them for the near future - they turn their attention to other matters, and his Fall is forgotten.

Castiel cannot forget. He feels it every moment, the slow drain of Grace, his life and being sucking away into Nothing. It's physical and _not_; Grace is a power, a gift, a state of being, but also the sum of everything he is; without Grace he loses his identity. Not just his powers, but his name, and his duties; he feels his connection to the Music of his Father wither, and it becomes dim and distant; and his soul, entwined with his waning Grace, is not tethered so certainly to Heaven; when he falls he will be human, and like any human, he will one day die. Perhaps he will go to Heaven; perhaps he will find himself back in Hell, not for a rescue mission this time but as a prisoner. He tries to imagine how the demons will react to having a once-angel at their mercy. It is not a reassuring thought.

His wings have grown heavy, awkward; they are not tangible, not really, but to those who can See they darken with his withering Grace. He is becoming something mutilated, something to be abhorred.

_"Aren't you a peculiar thing?"_

A peculiar thing.

_Lucifer _had called _him _a _peculiar thing._

The _devil._

That moment of realization was when it all began to fall apart.

* * *

"_I rebelled, I was cast out. You rebelled, you were cast out. Almost all of heaven wants to see me dead, and if they succeed, guess what? You're their new public enemy number one. We're on the same side, like it or not, so why not just serve your own best interests? Which in this case just happen to be mine?"_

Castiel knew Temptation.

That, in itself, is not a sin. He has also _defied _temptation - something which might be considered a triumph.

Except... he is _still _tempted.

He wonders why Lucifer wants Castiel, anyway. He is a lowly Angel of Thursday - and one with barely a spark of Grace sustaining him. He is trusted by Lucifer's perfect vessel, he will grant that much, but it is not as though anything Castiel could say will convince Sam to say Yes.

Maybe that, in itself, is a part of the temptation - making someone feel useful, needed, important, and then casting them down, just as Lucifer had smote his horde of demons in offering to Death.

_Or maybe your brother just wants company, _a part of Castiel whispers.

Lucifer had once been the brightest of all the Angels. In the first days he had shone with the glory of their Father, a radiant beacon of Grace and faith. His song had soared above the rest of the Host, inspiring all who bent an ear, and his sword and glory were unparalleled.

And then Father had made Humans, and demanded that his Firstborn bow to them and love those flawed, sinful creatures, and Lucifer had refused; he loved his Father, and his Brothers, but he could not love those earth-tethered beasts who were prey to their urges; and he was cast down, and War had been created.

Castiel had been just a fledgeling angel when the Fall occurred, but it was impossible to forget. The ferocity of Lucifer and Michael's battle, waged in their true forms, had made the earth quake and the heavens scream. When Michael had emerged in grim victory, their eldest brother had been cast down, a burning stream of beaten light that had nearly burned away even the eyes of angels, terrible and tragic, and the Song of the Host had been filled with mourning for centuries thereafter, in grief for their lost Brothers and Sisters.

The cause of that grief was Lucifer, undoubtedly - but why? Castiel had found many admirable aspects of humans - but also many evils. Even he could not love the entire race unreservedly, and yet in his youth when Father had asked it he had been among the rest of the Host, dutifully proclaiming their love for the second race, sealing the wedge between they and Father's most beloved.

Truly, Lucifer had simply been the only angel to be honest.

_"I have created them in mine own image," _Father had thundered. Yet humans were flawed.

Was Father flawed as well, to ask of his children what could not be expected?

Blasphemy - utter blasphemy. But Castiel wondered, and inside of him his feeble Grace flickered, flickered, and more power seeped from him.

Sometimes he hated humans - all humans - for making him Fall. An illogical hatred, but it was hard to remember his Cause when slaying kin, and watching their Grace flare behind the eyes of their Vessels to vanish from existence, all for the sake of tainted human souls. He would slay those perfect, perfect beings, and then fly out over the mortal realm - seeking solace in his Father's work, and finding only perversions and iniquity. Sometimes he wanted to weep with the sheer hopelessness of the world.

And now, so close to becoming human himself, Castiel realizes that he hates them.

* * *

"Dean."

Dean jumps, cursing as he banged his head against the Impala's hood. He backs out, rubbing the sore spot and glowering. "_What? _You found the Horsemen?"

"No."

"Then what do you want?" He snaps irritably.

Castiel is silent for a moment. They're in rural South Dakota, the morning light just breaking the horizon. The sky is picturesque, but under it is the twisted, artificial mess of Singer's auto yard, heaps of rusted, broken metal surrounding a decrepit house. Dean's beloved Impala is less an eyesore, but still somehow just as jarring.

Castiel apparently delays too long. "Look, if you just came to gawk - "

"I did not," the Seraph interjects. "I came seeking to discuss Faith - "

"Fuck, Cas, we've been over this! Yeah, I don't have faith. Boo-hoo. Can't see why anyone _would, _all this shit going on upstairs and the Big Guy out on vacation. Go preaching with the Jehovah's Witnesses if you're so antsy."

With that, the Righteous Man promptly goes back to cleaning his car.

"Dean - "

"_Eh!"_

"But - "

_"EH!"_

Castiel is quiet for a moment; all that can be heard is the clanking of metal as Dean studiously ignores him. Then, in a brief ruffle of wings, he is gone.

* * *

Castiel is not certain what he expects to find in a human house of worship that he cannot find in the rapture of Heaven, but he flutters down into a random church - Catholic, proclaims a sign - and sits in the mostly empty seats. Bibles are strewn everywhere - full of mostly inaccurate information, he knows, because like Chuck most phophets were not fully in control of their faculties.

_Flawed, human, _a part of him whispers. _Weak._

He pushes away the thought.

An old women smiles as he walks in. "Hello, Mister. You look a little troubled."

"I am having - doubts, about some recent actions," Castiel murmurs.

"Confession might help with that," the old lady assures, confidently.

"Confession?"

Confessing his 'sins' to a human - who, by nature, is inherently flawed? Yet a servant of God, nonetheless...

Why not. It wasn't as though Castiel could fall any lower.

Though the television shows he had glimpsed while with the Winchesters always depicted a small room with a partition, this church had different customs. Castiel found himself made to kneel at the feet of a human holy man, a position that made his skin prickle with unease.

He nudges the priest's mind to find the correct way to begin. "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I have never been to confession," Castiel pronounces gravely.

"Have you been baptized, child?"

"No. It is not a requirement for my kind."

"All the lord's children should be baptized - but you are not here for that. Confess your sins, my son."

"I am not certain if the matters troubling me were sinful acts."

"Tell me, child, and I shall advise you to the Lord's will."

"I have killed members of my own family. I have lied. I have broken vows. I have betrayed siblings and gone against the word of God. And I have made a Choice. But I have done so in war, fighting only to save the lives of mankind. Is this wrong?"

"...Violence... that is never condoned, my son... but there are - concessions - for righteous causes, and acts done in goodwill," the priest says delicately. "...You say you made a choice. What was this choice?"

Castiel considers. "I broke my loyalty to my Brothers and the Host of Heaven. I helped the Righteous Man and the Vessel of Lucifer to try to prevent the Apocalypse, against the commands of Michael, Zachariah, and Raphael. I have worked against Father's plans for the End. I am Falling."

Silence.

Castiel raised his head. The old priest was staring at him, his deepset eyes round and slightly alarmed. "...Child? What do you mean?"

"I am considered a traitor to the Garrison, second only to Lucifer himself," Castiel says sadly. "All for a desire to save my Father's creations. You are one of Father's servants; can you offer no advice?"

"...I..." the man looks lost. "...Are you well, child? ...What is your name?"

Castiel blinks slowly. Oh, yes. He probably should have explained, first, that he is not human _(yet)._ "I am Castiel. I am an Angel of the Lord."

The man eyes him uneasily. "Are you - is this a joke, of some sort?"

"No. I do not joke." Deciding this priest must be having the same issue as Dean, Castiel allows a flash of lightning to pervade the small, close-windowed room, stretching his wings.

The priest yells in shock, scrambling away. There is _fear _in him, terror, and he _screams _as Castiel walks closer. The angel frowns as a very recognizable scent hits him; the priest has soiled himself.

This, from a man who'd had the honor of having a Seraph kneeling before him?

Derision fills him, and with a tug from his rapidly diminishing Grace, Castiel flutters away, leaving the priest to sob in terror alone.

* * *

Castiel wanders the streets, an unshaven, unkempt figure in a trenchcoat that swathes his gaunt form. He is avoided, people turning out of their way to keep from his piercing blue eyes, and he Watches.

An attractive human male flirts with a young girl, who, flattered, walks with him and chatters by his side, sweet and innocent. Tonight he will steal that innocence, raping her, and Castiel knows that she will kill herself within months.

A man walks by, drunk, and Castiel Looks into him and sees that he grieves for the wrongful murder of his daughter. Tonight he will drive drunk, and hit a car. The drunken man will be fine, but a young boy will enter a coma, never to wake.

A lovely human female shies from a nervous man asking her on a date, tugging at the lapels of his eight-hundred dollar jacket as he does so. After a coquettish hesitation, she gracefully says 'yes'. She is a black widow - she means to marry him, then kill him for the money, as she has done to her previous three husbands. She's a devout Catholic, Castiel notes idly.

Sin, sin, sin, walking by in hordes - all this, in one random city. Why, he wonders, does he care to save these people? Why would he sacrifice anything for them?

He Sees kindness, of course. But that, too, is shadowed with Sin. A passing woman smiles at a pitiful beggar _(he'll be drunk tonight) _and hands him a five dollar bill. She feels smug, thinks of telling her friends tonight how charitable she is. A man holds a door open for a woman, and takes the opportunity as she walks by to eye her rear lustily. Two women talk, and one sincerely encourages her friend to pursue another man, but there is Envy in her heart, and also a smaller part of her thinking how nice it would be if her friend would just fuck someone and stop whinging about this mystery man.

Castiel stops walking. A man behind him curses, stumbling away before he can walk into the angel, and flips him off before stalking off. Suddenly, Castiel understands precisely what needs to be done.

His Grace is weak, and he can fly no more today. Instead he focuses, and walks with measured steps to the other side of town. It is very dark when he arrives at the bar, but stepping inside he meets laughing, drunken chatter and happy revelry, all of a sinful sort. He zeroes in on a demon in the body of an attractive young man, happily flirting with two women, and walks straight up to the creature.

"I need to speak to Lucifer," Castiel says flatly.

The creature freezes for a second, his eyes flickering to an alarmed black; the confused women don't seem to notice, eyeing Castiel warily. "_Now," _Castiel rumbles, and the demon scrambles up. Castiel grabs his arm _(filth, how can Lucifer stand them?) _and pulls the spawn outside.

The creature quivers, undoubtedly sensing Castiel's Grace and thinking himself hopelessly outmatched, although truth be told the demon could probably defeat Castiel relatively easily at his current strength. But Castiel manifests his blade, touching it to the terrified demon's chin, and the point is moot.

"Where is my Brother?" he demands.

"I don't know, I don't!" the demon yelps. "I'm not involved in any of that Apocalypse stuff, I'm just Influencing, that's all Angel - "

"Then find someone who _does _know," Castiel snaps harshly. "_Now!"_

In the end, the demon does give directions. Castiel almost smites him - habit - but at the last instant shoves away the terrified abomination, who immediately flees its host in a sudden cloud of smoke.

The human host is still alive, if barely. Red wounds open on it, and Castiel sees terrified awareness as it falls to the ground, gasping for breath, fingers scrabbling uselessly against the wet ground. Castiel might, if he tries hard enough, have enough Grace to heal it.

He turns and walks away.

* * *

In the end, Castiel is not the one to find Lucifer. Lucifer find him.

Or, more precisely, a dozen demons are sent to find the strange angel pursuing their Lord, and bind him to be dragged back to Lucifer.

"Well, well," says the devil. The demons shove Castiel to the ground, in a kneeling position. "Little Castiel. Back after all. Have you changed your mind?"

"Yes," says Castiel bluntly.

There is a pause.

Even Lucifer looks taken aback; the demons look plain astonished.

The devil stares at him. "...You're not joking," he says, at last. "You mean it."

"I would not prevaricate on this matter."

"...No. You wouldn't, would you? Such a serious little thing..." He is quiet a moment. He turns to the demons. "Leave us."

They scurry away like ants.

With a thoughtful wave of his hand, Lucifer unbinds Castiel. "Why, Brother?"

"Why would I not?" Castiel can't quite keep the bitterness from his voice. "You are many things, Lucifer - but you are honest. And you are the brightest among us. The humans are - worthless, corupt. Irredeemable. The Host is just as selfish, but clouded with lies and falsehood and hypocrisy, and even so they deny free will." He takes a deep breath - such a _human _gesture, but his Grace is nearly gone, so what does it matter? "Yours - yours seems the only cause actually worth fighting for..." His voice cracks, trembles, and Castiel falls silent.

Lucifer looks at him, and a slow, almost tender smile works across his face. "Little Brother," Lucifer murmurs. "Castiel... Oh, how you please me. We are alike, you know. It was bold, siding with the humans, very bold - but foolish. I am glad to see that you have gained understanding at last."

Lucifer moves closer, to where Castiel is still kneeling before him. "Oh, little Seraph, they've nearly made you _human, _haven't they?"

And the devil touches his chest, and in an instant everything Castiel has missed is flooding back - Grace and Song and Chorus, the Sharing of his kind and the Love of the bond that unites all angels. This time, though, he is not entwined with all his kin. The Grace that pulls and pushes against his own, newly replenished self is Lucifer, solely and only Lucifer, yet bright and hot and _alive. _Castiel is made Whole once more - _greater _that whole. It is _ecstasy._

The waves of joyous Grace numb him to the world. When he comes to, Castiel dizzily perceives that he is resting, face buried against the devil's chest, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"See how strong we are together, little brother?" Lucifer whispered. "Oh, your Grace is beautiful.

"Together, little angel, we will defeat them all. We will kill them _all."_

"Yes," Castiel rasped, raw. "Yes." And he weeps anew, clinging to his brother helplessly. "We will kill them - all.

"We will kill them _all..."_

"Together," Lucifer breathes against his hair. In the darkness, the devil's eyes glitter, and he smiles.

* * *

**So far I'm considering this a one-shot, but knowing me I might add to it later. Eh.**


End file.
